Let’s think of eyes this way: The lawyers said there’s nothing in this fellow. His family beheld no wonder in him. Have Mary Magdalene and I invented These words, this story?--who are we to do so,-- A fallen woman and a fisherman! Or did this happen? Did we see these things? Did Mary see him risen and did I? Were other eyes still dark spots on the yolk, And were our eyes full grown and did we see? Is this a madman’s world where I can talk, And have you write for centuries to read And play the fool with them? Or do all things Of spirit, as of stars, of spring and growth Proceed in order, under law to ends? No, Mark, my son, this is the truth, so write, Preserve this story taken from my lips. My work is almost done. Rome is the end Of all my labors, I have faith The Eye Will give me other eyes for other worlds! Why should I not believe this? Not all seasons Are for unfolding. In the winter time You cannot see the miracle of birth, Of germinating seeds, of blossoming. Why not then that one time for seeing Death Go up like mist before the rising sun? And in this single instance of our Lord Arising from the grave, see all men rise, And all men’s souls discovered in his soul, Their quality and essence, strength made clear? And why not I the seer of these things? Why should there be another and not I? And I declare to you that untold millions In centuries untold will live and die By these words which you write, as I have told them. And nation after nation will be moulded, As heated wax is moulded, by these words. And spirits in their inmost power will feel Change and regeneration through them--well, what then? Do you say God is living, that this world, These constellations, move by law, that all This miracle of life and light is held In harmony, and that the soul of man Moves not in order, but that it’s allowed To prove an anarch to itself, sole thing That turns upon itself, sole thing that’s shown The path that leads no whither? is allowed To feed on falsehood? that it’s allowed To wander lawless to its ruin, fooled By what it craves, by what it feels, by eyes That swear the truth of what they see? by words Which you will write from words I have affirmed? And do you say that Life shall prove the foe Of life, and Law of law? Or do you say The child’s eyes see reality which see The poppy blossoms or the mother’s breast, And this Rome and these stars do not exist Because the child’s eyes cannot compass them, And get their image? Shall we trust our vision Mounting to higher things, or only trust Those things which all have seen except the souls Who have not soared, or risen to the gift Of seeing what seemed walking trees grow clear As men or angels? No, it cannot be.